Blood and Loyalty
by ClearlyAPirateer
Summary: A different take on the night Crepsley planned to make Darren a half-vampire. When a vampaneze with a vendetta interrupts the process, not only is Darren's transformation postponed but his very survival comes into question. RR lovers, this will entertain the main theme of the beginning of a long friendship between Darren and Creps, but it's not always pretty.
1. Blood

**Chapter One**

**"Blood"**

Darren Shan shook his dark hair out of his eyes as he made his way up the deserted street toward home. Tonight he would die. This would be his last night to say goodbye to his family, and he knew with a hollow feeling in his chest that he wasn't ready.

But on the other hand, his best friend Steve Leonard had only one hope of survival, and that was the unique antidote Mr. Crepsley the vampire carried on his person. Darren would now reap the reward for having stolen Crepsley's spider Madam Octa—Crepsley had refused to relinquish the antidote without Darren's agreement on one thing: Darren would become a half-vampire, and would enter into a period of servitude as Crepsley's assistant.

Really there was no choice involved. Darren would go forward with Crepsley's plan.

The porch light outside his mother and father's suburban home was turned off when Darren padded up the quiet driveway. The windows were dim; everyone was preparing to bed down for the night. Darren creaked up the porch stairs and slipped inside without noticing a small glint behind a nearby hedge that signalled Crepsley's silent, secret presence.

His mother and father were predictably bemused by Darren's unexpected show of affection, but they received it lovingly, especially his mother. She smoothed his hair across his forehead and pulled him in for a hug. Darren felt his chest melting and came very close right then to backing out on his deal.

But then Steve's pained face swam in his vision, and his resolve was strong again. After saying an extra long and loving goodnight to his sister Annie, Darren entered his own room and closed the door behind him for the last time.

With his hand still on the handle, Darren closed his eyes and drew in a deep, slow breath of air, leaning his forehead against the door. The muscles in his body were trembling slightly, and he reached a hand up to cover his heart, which he could feel pounding violently in his chest.

"Have you said your farewells?"

Darren gasped in alarm and spun around, knocking over a nearby light stand in his haste to face the intruder. "Who—how—"

Larten Crepsley emerged from the shadowy corner of Darren's room, his eyes fixed on the boy. "It is I."

"You almost killed me!" Darren groaned angrily, running a hand over his face. "You better hope that doesn't bring my Dad!"

"Then we had best be off," Crepsley agreed in a quiet voice. There was something hard to place about the expression he wore, but Darren could spare no attention to the subtleties of his tormentor. Still glaring, the boy crossed the room to the open window and looked outside across the sprawling lawn. There was a tall tree outside, presumably the way Crepsley had made it up to his window, though no human could have managed it.

"Where are we going?" Darren asked, without looking back at the vampire.

He felt Crepsley come up beside him to peer out onto the moonlit grass. "First I must blood you," he said finally. "I would have done so before I ever let you leave the Cirque, but my superior happened to be present at the show, and I doubt he would look kindly on my blooding a child as young as you."

"I'm not so young."

"You are an infant. Now take hold of my shoulder and jump on my back. I'm going to flit you somewhere we can safely complete the transformation."

Darren turned slowly around and fixed the man with an unhappy stare. He didn't relish the idea of being in such close proximity of this monster. But before he could find the confidence to object, Crepsley had stepped forward, taken him by one arm and slung him up and over his shoulder.

"Hey—wait—" But before Darren's plea could even be heard he was suddenly aware that they were no longer in the bedroom, nor were they standing still. Colors and unidentifiable shapes were rushing past them in all directions. The wind pummeled Darren's face without mercy, whipping his hair against his skin and sucking the air out of his lungs. But there was only a moment in which to panic before they had come to a sudden stop.

Darren lurched off Crepsley's back, gasping violently, his head between his knees as he coughed and sputtered.

Crepsley peered over his shoulder at his plight. "Did I not tell you to hold your breath?"

Darren couldn't speak. He just shook his head raggedly, still heaving for breath.

They had reached some kind of abandoned warehouse, and as soon as he could stand up straight Darren followed Mr. Crepsley through the decaying wooden door. They found themselves in a musky, open space, with dusty machinery lining the walls, long out of use. The floor itself was covered in so much dust that to step across it felt like walking on a thick bed of moss.

"Mr. Crepsley," Darren began, hoping to promote some urgency for Steve's sake. "Can we—"

"This must be done in a place utterly safe from disturbance, Darren," interrupted Crepsley sternly. "That is why I took you out here into the middle of nowhere. This is going to be a painful process for you, and you will probably make a scene. When I was turned, I couldn't stop myself from screaming."

Darren was quickly feeling less and less sure about this. His eyes darted around the deteriorating interior of the warehouse, and then back to Mr. Crepsley. He took a few steps back. Crepsley took no notice. He was busy fiddling with his gloves, which his pulled off and put in his pocket.

"Give me your hands," Mr. Crepsley ordered, looking back up at Darren. "I'm going to blood you now."

Darren felt the color draining from his face. He reached a hand up to the side of his neck, taking a few more steps backward, his eyes wide.

"What are you doing?" Crepsley demanded. "I'm not going to bite you, I could kill you that way. _Give me your hands!"_

Darren felt his body obey, and he lifted both his hands toward the vampire. They shook, but Crepsley grasped them tightly. With ten tiny pricks, Crepsley had opened up small slits on the tips of each of Darren's fingers. Darren let out a surprised hiss from between his teeth, wincing as he saw droplets of his own blood spattering on the dusty floor below. He tried to pull his hands away from Mr. Crepsley.

When Darren's fingers started to go numb, and Crepsley wasn't moving, Darren looked reluctantly up into the vampire's face. But Crepsley wasn't looking at him. Holding the boy's hands in a deathly tight grip, the vampire's eyes were locked on the dark corner of the warehouse. The man's body didn't move and he didn't seem to be breathing.

Darren tried to pull away again. "Mr. Crepsley, what—?"

"Be quiet!" Crepsley hissed, without taking his eyes off the corner. Darren could feel his own blood trickling slowly down his wrists and over Crepsley's fingers.

Before Darren could begin to wonder what was going on, there was a long, low laugh from the darkness across the room. Darren stiffened, and Crepsley drew him to one side, finally letting go of his bleeding hands. "Don't move, Darren."

Crepsley faced the shadows, squaring his shoulders. "Show yourself!"

Darren held his breath as a dark figure appeared, drawing out of the shadow and into the dim light.

"Identify yourself!" Barked Crepsley.

The stranger let out another menacing laugh and stepped closer, close enough for the light to fall across his features. Darren had time only to register his purple skin and his enormous size before the man had thrown himself across the room at Crepsley and the still-human boy.

Crepsley was taken by surprise, and when the bulk of their attacker collided with him he didn't respond as quickly as he otherwise might have, due in part to surprise and also the intoxicating scent of Darren's freshly spilled blood. The attacker bowled Crepsley across the floor and they fell in a tangle.

Without thinking or questioning the sudden urge, Darren rushed forward, grabbing a long peg of wood from beside of the machines. "Get off!" Darren yelled hoarsely . He ran forward and struck the attacker's broad back with the point of the stake as Crepsley rolled out from underneath and landed a hard punch to the huge man's side, knocking him into the dust. Crepsley grabbed Darren and threw him roughly back against the wall. "I told you not to move!" He growled angrily.

But the attacker took this moment of weakness for all it was worth, and before Crepsley had turned back around the bigger man had come up from behind and slapped a cupped hand up to Crepsley's mouth and nose. Inexplicably, Crepsley went instantly limp, slumping forward onto the ground at Darren's feet.

Breathing hard, Darren looked back up into the red eyes of the creature, and tried to retreat further, hitting the wall behind him. A leer broke out on the monster's face, and Darren saw that his teeth were sharp like razors, and stained by what looked like blood.

"Hello, human child," the creature grunted, inhaling reverently when he caught the scent of Darren's blood. "Is Crepsley your friend, then? Going to turn you, was he?" He inhaled greedily again. "Allow me to introduce myself. The name's Murlough. I've been trailing this vampire for months, waiting for him to step away from the show, and his reason for finally doing so is such a sweet one…" Murlough stepped over Crepsley's body toward Darren, reaching for him with huge hands covered in old blood.

Darren had only a few seconds opportunity before Murlough would be too close for him to escape. Without thinking, Darren flung the flimsy wooden stake at the vampaneze and dashed to one side, ducking around a dirty old sewing table and trying to look over his shoulder at the same time. He couldn't leave Mr. Crepsley to his death—if he did he may never get that antidote!

As he was facing front again, his body collided heavily with a huge, purple skinned figure. It was Murlough! With a gasp, Darren tripped backward over his heels and landed on his bottom on the floor, staring up at the grinning monster.

"You're not faster than Young Murlough," the vampaneze told him with a malicious sneer. Darren pushed himself backward, but Murlough swept forward and bent over him in a rush, fastening his hands at the base of Darren's neck and forcing him roughly onto his back in the thick dust. "Nobody's faster than me, I'm the fastest fellow around. Thought you could outrun me?"

Darren choked, his fingers grappling at the backs of Murlough's hands, trying to kick the huge weight off his chest. His knees hit his attackers wide back with little effect, but thankfully Murlough lifted his strangle-hold momentarily.

Darren continued to fight against the restraint, but Murlough had grown still, and he raised one of his purple hands up to his nose. Darren could see his own blood shining there.

Murlough inhaled deeply and reverently, his eyes growing wide. He breathed out heavily, a breath ending in a guttural chuckle. His red eyes found Darren's and there was something else shining there now.

"You have… a wonderful scent," the vampaneze breathed, his nostrils dilating. His tongue flicked out across his lips. He inhaled the smell of Darren's blood again. "Is this why Crepsley chose you?"

Darren stared up, helpless, trapped beneath the creature and completely unable to move.

Just then, seemingly at the mention of his name, there was a low groan from the nearby Crepsley, and Murlough's eyes snapped back into focus as he twisted his head around. He clicked his tongue. Then Darren felt him draw off of him and pull away.

With a few quick breaths and a burst of adrenaline, Darren realized he was free, and he rolled over and climbed unsteadily to his feet.

**RR my loves. Chapter 2 coming faster than you can blink! Will be worth it.**


	2. Loyalty

**Chapter Two**

**"Loyalty"**

On his feet once more, Darren had time only to take a breath before he felt a grimy hand snake over his shoulder and cup over his nose and mouth. Gasping, Darren reached up to clutch Murlough's wrist, but the tight grip was strong.. And a strange sensation was overcoming him... his struggles began to weaken... his fingers loosened around Murlough's slippery wrist.

He heard Murlough chuckle deeply behind his ear. "That's better, boy. Good for the nerves..." The vampaneze had imparted only enough of his toxic gas to slow the boy's senses, and to dull his thoughts. He wanted this prey to remain conscious. "Young Murlough is a doctor of sorts... the best doctor around."

Darren dimly registered being released from the vampaneze's foul embrace. His world seemed to have been fundamentally altered, and he could no longer remember who was attacking him or where they had gone. The surrounding warehouse swam hazily around him, and Darren found himself losing his footing. He staggered backward and his foot caught on the ragged corner of an empty filing cabinet, sending him sprawling into the dust. Coughing into the sudden cloud that rose up around him, Darren lay on the ground for a moment and tried to form a rational thought. After what felt like a very long time, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, breathing heavily and squinting tensely around the dark, shimmering room. _A purple faced man... where was the purple faced man? _He shook his head, trying to clear it. _Mr. Crepsley..._

He couldn't see anything through this blasted haze. With a grunt, Darren pushed himself along the wall toward the only thing he could think to follow: a dim focal point of light that had to be the outside of the warehouse.

He felt as though this strange feeling were already wearing off as he neared the glowing light. The objects around Darren were slowly sharpening to distinction, and he could finally see that ahead of him was a broken window. Through it he was looking at a street lamp on the curb outside. He would have to go out this way.

How long had it been since Murlough left him alone? Ten minutes? An hour?

He had reached the adjacent wall, and above him was his window to freedom. He reached up and grabbed the window frame, trying to pull himself up on shaky legs. He didn't care if he cut his hands on the broken glass; Mr. Crepsley had done worse.

At the thought of Mr. Crepsley, his sluggish, intoxicated mind latched onto awareness and he froze with his hands on the windowsill. He stood poised, ready to throw himself through it, but stopping himself. _Steve... I need to get the antidote for Steve._

With slow certainty, he realized he could not leave Mr. Crepsley without trying to get that antidote. Darren blinked, staring at the street lamp through the shattered glass. Then, he turned back toward the darkness inside.

There was Murlough, directly in front of him and wearing a wide, toothy smirk. "Checking out early?" he leered, eyes glinting.

Darren glared back at him. His thoughts still dragged terribly, but he was aware, and he was angry. "Don't-" He growled, but Murlough had already gripped him by the front of his shirt and was pulling him forcefully toward the center of the warehouse, paying no heed to the boy's furious protests.

"Do you need another dose?" Murlough growled, flinging Darren down onto the floor between himself and the semi-conscious Mr. Crepsley. At the threat of another poisoning, Darren quieted his movements but remained defensive; his muscles sere still exhausted from the first dose. He heard a low grumble a few feet away, and turned to see Mr. Crepsley's eyes opening.

The vampire blinked rapidly and grunted, his eyes adjusting to the warehouse. When he realized his hands were bound behind his back and secured to the leg of the old sewing table, he let out a low growl and sat straight up, his eyes flashing to Darren, and then to Murlough.

"What is the meaning of this?" Crepsley demanded in a voice that dripped poison. "You have broken the treaty, Murlough! You should be put to death, you filthy creature!"

Murlough growled in equal fury. "We do not kill our own kind, you disgusting vampire! My family would not put me to death!" He grinned darkly. "Especially not for killing the vampire that attacked me while I was feeding."

Crepsley looked outraged. "No honor! You have no honor or sense of loyalty to the laws of your kin! You would attack a vampire and then lie to your very own blood!"

Murlough clicked his tongue in irritation, his eyes flashing with a hint of temper. "Quiet, vampire," growled the vampaneze, lifting Darren to his knees again by the shoulder of his shirt, and dangling him there. "Don't kill the mood."

"You think you'll get to paradise with these lies?"

"I said quiet!"

"Put him down." Crepsley's voice was sharp and powerful. "I am not an enemy you want to make."

Murlough hesitated only a moment, his eyes glinting at Crepsley as Darren's fingers pulled weakly at the hand clenched in his shirt. "You know I can't resist. Not after I smelled him, Crepsley. Not his blood."

"Put him down!"

Murlough dragged the boy into a half standing position, tall enough for the vampaneze to tangle his free hand in Darren's hair. He bared the boy's neck and leaned down over him. He took a long breath, inhaling the scent of Darren's hair and neck.

"Get off me!" Darren cried, trying to turn his face away. His breath came in tearful gasps. His hands pushed in vain against Murlough's huge bulk, and his feet scrabbled across the floor, but he could not dislodge himself from the tight grasp of death.

He could hear Crepsley's continued shouts, and Murlough's face was beside his own again, pressing close to his throat. Darren buried his forehead in the fabric of Murlough's jacket.

Murlough was so enraptured by the scent and feel of the human in his arms that he forgot to spare a thought for Crepsley, whose shouts had quieted. Beside the sewing table, the vampire was removing Madam Octa's wooden travelling cage from a large pocket of his jacket, and with a few gentle nudges with his foot, the latch fell open. The enormous spider could sense the urgency in her master's eyes, and Crepsley knew after observing her with Darren that the two of them shared a unique affinity to each other. The urgency was such that Crepsley knew she would cooperate, flute or no flute.

Madam Octa hopped nimbly from the small cage onto Crepsley's leg, her eight eyes shimmering mystically in the dim room. _Hurry!_ thought Crepsley, stealing a glance at Murlough and Darren. Murlough was still toying with the boy.

Madam Octa wound her way over Crepsley's hip and onto one of his arms, which she travelled along until she reached the steel wires binding them together. She seemed to be taking her time as she passed over these wires, coming to rest on the single coil securing Crepsley's wrists to the dirty old sewing table. Here, she settled her round body down over the wire and began to bite through it fiber by fiber.

Darren gave a cry when Murlough bit gently on the skin of his throat, opening up a small slit that spilled an instant rivulet of warm blood. Murlough's tongue flicked out and he tasted the ruby red liquid. A shudder ran through the vampaneze's body and he straightened up, lifting Darren with him until the boy's feet hung a few feet off the ground. Weakly, Darren used his feet to try to push himself away from Murlough as he felt lips close over the shallow cut at his throat. His foot pushed against Murlough's leg and then slipped back down. "Don't," he pleaded, his voice cracking. He pushed again with his foot, and again his foot slipped past Murlough's leg, leaving him limp against the front of Murlough's body.

Suddenly there was the sound of rushing air and something collided with Darren and Murlough, sending them both flying across the open center of the floor. Darren crashed into a table and the boxes sitting on top of it landed violently on his chest. Pushing out from underneath them, still feeling shaky from the vampaneze gas but very much recovered after that burst of adrenaline, Darren's eyes found Crepsley and Murlough. The vampire was battling the vampaneze at such a speed that their colors blurred, and their shouts filled the entire warehouse with ringing echoes and clangs. His heart hammering, thinking fast, Darren cast about him for some kind of weapon. His eyes fell on the rather sharp wooden post he had held earlier, only a few feet away. Running to it, he bent down, and used the tip of one of his boots to forcefully splinter away at the already-sharp end. In a matter of seconds, as the echoes and clangs around him reverberated in his ears, he had fashioned the tool into a weapon.

"AAAARRRGGGGHHH!" Murlough's roar bounced off the walls like thunder, and Darren spun on his heel just in time to see the vampaneze swing a heavy typewriter at Mr. Crepsley's head. Crepsley ducked hastily to the side but before he could get his bearings again, Murlough had swung from the other side. Crepsley careened sideways through an open door into a small office, and out of sight.

Darren had seen enough. With hot adrenaline coursing through his body, obliterating the last traces of intoxication, he took off toward the vampaneze at a run.

When running footsteps reached his ears, Murlough tore his focus from the open office doorway and turned to face the boy's approach. Darren let out a roar of his own and launched forward, covering the remaining distance between them with surprising agility, wielding his weapon as hard as he could. But he was still only a human, and a very young one, and he was fighting a very strong vampaneze. The wooden stake tore a few strands out of Murlough's jacket and lanced off his muscles as Darren flew into him, doing no damage at all.

Darren's momentum carried him off of Murlough and he landed hard on the floor, spinning to face the vampaneze once more. When he caught sight of Murlough's face, Darren was pleased to see that the purple faced creature had been slightly taken aback by the speed of his attack. Without waiting another second, seeing only Steve's agonized face in his mind's eye, Darren flew forward again, raising the stake to strike.

This time Murlough was prepared. The vampaneze deflected the stake with relative ease and it clattered to the floor. He caught Darren by the throat with one hand, raising him into the air. Darren choked and kicked, trying to pry open Murlough's fingers around his neck, trying to kick the man's chest with his feet.

"This didn't have to be so messy," Murlough panted, his eyes raking Darren from top to bottom. "All I wanted was a taste-"

His gravelly voice choked off and his grip on Darren wavered. Murlough stared into Darren's face, who stared back, eyes wide. A dribble of blood crested Murlough's purple lips and trickled down his chin, landing on his chest. Darren followed the movement of the blood with his eyes, and saw protruding from Murlough's chest a slick, metal blade.

Murlough's hands released from around Darren's throat and Darren fell, landing on his hands and knees. Then he sensed Murlough's bulk teetering above him, and he scrambled to the side. Murlough fell heavily where Darren had just been, and the blade fell with him, punching deeper into his body when he hit the ground. The vampaneze let out an animalistic gurgling sound, and moved no more.

Heaving for breath, Darren looked up from the dead Murlough to find Mr. Crepsley standing there, one side of his face having been mangled by the typewriter. Crepsley looked worn, but his eyes were sharp as they fixed on Darren. The tall vampire knelt beside him, staring keenly at the fresh cut on the side of Darren's neck. It was still bleeding slightly. "Are you injured?"

Darren shook his head, at a loss for words.

Crepsley looked relieved, but he was staring oddly at Darren, with a kind of penetrating gaze that made the boy shiver. "You could have died. You _should_ have died, if logic reigns."

"Logic?" Darren asked, shaking his head in amazement. "Mr. Crepsley, I need that antidote. My friend will die without it."

The intensity of Crepsley's gaze was softening, and he seemed to be coming to some kind of conclusion. Without waiting another moment, he placed his fingertips together and punctured the tips of his fingers, as he had done earlier to Darren's hands. Then he reached down and grasped Darren by the wrists. Darren seemed surprised, but he didn't protest; he let Crepsley place his fingers to the tips of his own, and as the vampire blooded him, he looked him in the eyes. "I was right about you, Darren. Madam Octa was right. I will save your friend."

Darren felt the heat of Crepsley's blood creep up his hands and arms, into his shoulders and neck. It struck his heart like fire and suddenly, Darren knew only blackness. His last conscious thought was immense relief that Steve would be saved, and fear for himself was the farthest thing from his mind as the blackness became complete.

**Review lovers! I hope you enjoyed my little story, I may very well write a sequel. **


	3. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The chilly wind biting at Darren's neck would have made him shiver just one night ago. But now as he walked briskly alongside Crepsley down the unlit street, the cold didn't seem to bother him at all. He could feel it blowing against his skin, but it didn't sink into his bones the way it would have before, and he didn't shiver or pull his jacket tighter.

He was feeling no pain. He hoped he wasn't the only one. Darren glanced up at Mr. Crepsley with a plea in his eyes. "We should have stayed."

Mr. Crepsley sighed, apparently having had this discussion with Darren already, and looked down. His face injury from the previous night had healed completely, thanks to his own saliva, and now only a thin, pink scar remained. "Darren," said Mr. Crepsley firmly, "I explained myself quite clearly. I've only just turned you-I won't stand by and watch you arrested by hospital security for lurking at the bedside of a comatose patient."

"He isn't comatose anymore. That's what you promised, isn't it?"

"Steve will be long awake by this time," Crepsley reassured him gently. "I'll pick up Sunday's newspaper for you and you can read all about his miraculous recovery. Humans love that sort of thing. Half-vampires do, too, I'm sure."

Darren nodded, satisfied. They kept up their quick pace, with only dried leaves for company on the deserted street. Darren's eyes wandered uncomfortably to the vacant window glass on either side of them. The darkness stared back at him through the empty windows, and in them he caught sight of his dim reflection. He stopped walking and stared at his own pale face in the window, so small and white.

Was that really still Darren Shan looking out through those eyes? _Have I changed at all? Am I some kind of monster? _He peered more intently at his face in the reflection.

"Darren?" Mr. Crepsley had stopped walking now too. "What are you doing?"

Darren took a deep breath and tore his eyes away from the window. With a rather heavy heart, he picked up pace again beside his new mentor, whose expression seemed somewhat more gentle than it had a few minutes ago.

"Come," said Crepsley in a low voice, taking the lead again and steering the youngster into the undergrowth and onto a prickly, overgrown trail. "We must reach the Cirque to complete your transformation."

"What?" Asked Darren, surprised. "You mean there's still more to do?"

Crepsley's eyes glinted mischeviously. "More? Oh, yes. You still have to die."

_**Fin**_


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